


For You

by Trash



Series: Thirty Days [2]
Category: AFI
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Advey - Freeform, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1415521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davey likes cuddles, Adam does not. Luckily for Davey, Adam loves him enough to let him crawl into his arms at all hours of the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For You

Davey likes cuddles, Adam does not. Luckily for Davey, Adam loves him enough to let him crawl into his arms at all hours of the day. 

"I get separation anxiety," Davey says, voice mostly muffled by Adam's T-shirt. 

"So do cows. They make friends with each other and panic when they are separated."

Davey looks up at him, eyes searching for the punch line to what he believes to be a joke at his expense. When he finds nothing he nods, satisfied, and returns his face to the crook of Adam's neck, a fistful of his tshirt clenched in his hand. 

***

Adam drew the short straw and got the bunk near the bathroom, which wouldn't be such an issue if Smith only remembered the rule of "no number twos on the bus". He lies on his back with his arms folded over his chest and thinks of coffins, being buried alive - it probably smells similar. 

The cistern refilling is the only sound to be heard over the steady purr of the bus engine as they carve their way across the south. Then, suddenly, an urgent whisper rises above everything. Adam pulls the curtain back and there is Davey, eyes watery and makeup smeared. Rolling onto his side Adam shuffles until his back is flat against the wall and makes room for Davey to climb in. 

He kicks off his shoes and hops up, lying down to face Adam and fumbling to close the curtain behind him. They lie there in silence for a moment, their legs tangled together. The arm Adam is lying on has gone to sleep and he shifts, unintentionally pressing closer to Davey. 

"I got called a fag four times today. Four."

"Not as many as I expected," Adam says. He wants to ask what in fucks name Davey was expecting, walking around in the sweltering heat of the south with less skin showing than he would have if he had worn a burka, a parasol shading his head. 

Davey sulks, closing his eyes. When he does a tear escapes and rolls down his cheek, soaks into the pillow. There will be mascara stains to explain tomorrow, but for now Adam drapes his arm over Davey's waist and pulls him closer, pressing his lips to his forehead. "I don't know why you let it bother you," he whispers. "You are a faggot, after all."

Davey struggles against Adam's hold, perhaps to shoot him a disgusted glare or to hiss something scathing but it certainly isn't to leave. And that is all that matters.


End file.
